


What Deepest Remains

by enigmaticblue



Series: Avengers Avenging [2]
Category: Leverage, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, M/M, Trope Bingo Round 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-07
Updated: 2015-02-07
Packaged: 2018-03-10 23:32:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3307277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticblue/pseuds/enigmaticblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How Bruce Banner and Tony Stark became a single entity, at least in the eyes of the rest of the world. A Leverage fusion of sorts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Deepest Remains

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Contains mentions of suicidal ideation consistent with Bruce's MCU backstory. A prequel to The Hammer Job, as this is the backstory for Tony and Bruce. Written for the trope_bingo prompt “fusion”

_“What stays with you latest and deepest? of curious panics,_

_Of hard-fought engagements or sieges tremendous what deepest remains?”_

 

~Walt Whitman

 

Later, Bruce will think that it’s only a difference of thirty seconds that separates him from a life of misery and being alone on the run from General Ross—however short he’d intended that life to be—and some of the best years of his life.

 

It’s the narrowest of margins, because if he’d come to his office five minutes earlier, or five minutes later, he would have missed running into a dead man.

 

The dead man doesn’t hear him coming, probably because Bruce isn’t supposed to be here, and what Bruce is planning to do will most likely get him sent to Gitmo for treason. Not that Bruce is planning on being alive that long, but he certainly doesn’t intend on getting caught before he can finish his task.

 

“Oh, shit,” someone says as Bruce slips into his office.

 

Bruce reaches for the light out of reflex and then stops himself at the last moment. “Who’s there?”

 

“Would you believe a burglar?” The blinds are down on the windows, and only a very faint light creeps through from the hall, so all Bruce catches is the line of a clean-shaven jaw, the flash of white teeth, and the hint of dark clothing and a dark stocking hat.

 

“Only if you’re planning on stealing military secrets,” Bruce replies. “And I really can’t let you do that.”

 

“And how are you going to stop me?” he asks.

 

He has Bruce there. A struggle will bring attention Bruce doesn’t want, and then he’ll have to answer questions about why he broke into the labs, rather than using his all-access pass. At the same time, he has to destroy his research lest it be used for yet more terrible things.

 

“You don’t understand,” Bruce says, a little desperately. “That information _can’t_ be released. I came here to destroy it.”

 

There’s a long pause, and Bruce has absolutely no idea what he’s going to do if the erstwhile burglar decides to blow him off. And then the other man says, “You know, this is _not_ how I pictured this evening going.”

 

Bruce blinks. “What?”

 

“I’ve been trying to locate the files to shut the program down, but I can’t say for sure I’ve found them all,” he continues. “As the expert, you do it.”

 

Bruce is speechless, but then he sits in the chair that the stranger pulls out for him, and begins to do what he’d planned to do all along. He half expects the other man to bash him over the head with something heavy, but instead he lets out a low whistle when Bruce deploys his Trojan—the one he’d been working on ever since seeing the _real_ data from the human trials.

 

“Now _that_ is a beautiful piece of code,” the stranger says.

 

Bruce thinks he might actually be blushing. “Thanks.”

 

“So, what’s the plan now?” the man asks.

 

“The plan is that I wait another fifteen minutes to make sure it worked, and then I leave the way I came in,” Bruce replies.

 

“Does that part of the plan include never seeing each other again?” he asks.

 

Bruce gives him an incredulous look that is probably at least partially obscured by the darkness. “What?”

 

“Look, I come here expecting to find the work of an evil scientist bent on, I don’t know, evil human experimentation,” he begins.

 

Bruce snorts. “That’s a little redundant, don’t you think?” The adrenalin is apparently loosening his tongue, and removing a few of his filters. “Evil scientists by definition would be performing evil human experimentation.”

 

The man pauses to think about that for all of two seconds. “Point, but I could probably posit a few scenarios where that’s not the case. The _point_ is that you’ve poured years into this project and now you’re destroying everything. The Trojan proves premeditation, and the fact that you’re risking charges of treason suggests a state of non-evilness—”

 

“That’s not actually a word.”

 

“—and the code itself is genius. I mean, I knew you were brilliant, but I refused to let myself get distracted because I thought you were evil. And now you’re not.”

 

“I was never evil!” Bruce hisses. “I thought we were protecting soldiers from environmental hazards like radiation exposure! Do you know how many soldiers end up sick or even dead from ionizing radiation?”

 

“And now you’re a humanitarian,” the man remarks. “Man, it must have nearly killed you to find out what the Army was really using your research for.”

 

Bruce closes his eyes briefly, because it had, and he’d come fairly close to ending his life right there. Only the thought of making it right had kept him from doing so, but he fully plans on carrying out the final stage as soon as he’s far enough away from here.

 

“I really think it’s best if we go our separate ways,” Bruce says.

 

“No, no way,” the man replies. “Look, I came here to make sure General Ross’ super soldier program was destroyed, but even if the data is gone, it still exists in your head.”

 

Bruce smiles wryly. “Exactly.”

 

There’s another long pause, and then the man says, “Okay, sure. Whatever you want. It’s just that my exit strategy wasn’t the best. You mind if I follow you out of the building?”

 

Bruce is tired, and still a little thrown, and the adrenalin spike is wearing off to be replaced with a sick, anxious feeling. He has to get out of here, get out of the building and away from Culver University, away from any chance of being stopped before he can carry out the final phase.

 

He’s not going to kid himself—if Ross catches up to him, there’s every chance that he’ll break him, and Bruce will be right back at square one.

 

“Yeah, sure,” he says, and they wait in silence to be certain that the Trojan has done its job. In some ways, Ross had made this incredibly easy, because he’d insisted on no paper copies of files, all reports had to be stored on a separate server that was off the main network, and no one—not even Bruce—had been allowed to take work home with him.

 

In retrospect, Bruce had been incredibly gullible, and Ross had preyed on that by parading Steve Rogers in front of him early on in the program.

 

Steve Rogers had been tall, built, and incredibly enthusiastic about the wonders that Bruce’s work had done for him.

 

What Ross hadn’t said, what _Rogers_ hadn’t said, was that there was only one real success story, and the rest had been failures.

 

Mostly the worst kind of failures.

 

“It’s done,” Bruce says finally. “The Trojan will run until noon tomorrow, and then it will self-destruct, along with any file it’s attached to. I’ve already called in sick, but that’s about when my ex-girlfriend will figure out that I’m gone.”

 

Bruce had broken things off as soon as he’d realized what the program was actually doing. He has no idea if Betty knows the truth or not; he’d been too afraid to ask. She might have stopped him.

 

He doesn’t let himself think about what he might have done if she _hadn’t_ stopped him from destroying his work, because he knows that the outcome has to be the same. Maybe Betty would have been on his side, but the final phase of the plan had always been Bruce putting a bullet in his brain.

 

Bruce has set the security cameras on an infinite loop for an hour, so they should be covered while they sneak out.

 

They reach the parking lot, and Bruce says, “This is where I leave you,” only to find out that the man has disappeared.

 

It’s just as well, Bruce thinks.

 

He’d parked in one of the far lots open to faculty, but that usually only students use, due to the cheap rates and distance from pretty much everything. Also, there are no security cameras, which is even better.

 

He’s unlocking the door when he hears someone behind him, and he whirls. He just manages to catch sight of what is undoubtedly the man who had been in his office—and realizes in the same breath that it’s _Tony fucking Stark_ —before Stark says, “Sorry,” and knocks him out.

 

That pretty much defines the course of their entire relationship, to be honest.

 

~~~~~

 

By the time Tony meets Bruce Banner, he’s more than a little bored by the status quo. Granted, he’s found various ways to pass the time, mostly by righting wrongs and taking down bad guys. He’s hacked military databases to determine where his weapons have wound up. He’s shut down programs that resulted in innocent lives being lost. He’s released top-secret files that revealed government abuses and torture.

 

Technically, Tony supposes this all makes him a hacktivist, but he doesn’t think of himself as one.

 

He’s a dead guy doing his best to make the world a little better, and maybe make up for all the damage his weapons have done—are doing, whatever.

 

The pictures from Gulmira had been a wakeup call, and after the second attempt on his life, Tony decided he could do more good dead than alive, especially since he’d set Obadiah up to take the fall for his “murder,” leaving the way clear for Pepper to take the reins of Stark Industries.

 

Faking his own death had _seemed_ like a good idea at the time, as it solved a number of pressing problems, but now he’s kind of stuck. He can’t reveal he’s alive without Obadiah getting out of prison, and Tony likely going to jail for faking his death and _putting_ Obie in prison. Besides, Pepper is doing a better job running SI than he had, and Tony has to keep his identity a secret.

 

The sad truth is that Tony hasn’t had sex in _months_ , unable to get close to anyone who might recognize him. He’d had a few fumbling encounters in bar bathrooms where it had been too dark for anybody to really get a good look at him, and that’s about it.

 

He hacks, he rights wrongs, and he drinks—probably more than is good for him.

 

And then he catches wind of Ross’ super soldier program, and he knows what his next project is going to be.

 

The problem, as he soon discovers, is that Ross and his lead scientist are exceedingly careful. The program data, everything that Tony needs to destroy so thoroughly that the program can’t be resurrected, is on a server that isn’t connected to any network.

 

So, he digs up everything he can on the program, on Ross, on the results, and on one Dr. Robert Bruce Banner.

 

Banner’s a genius, no question about it, maybe even close to Tony’s level. Tony reads his paper on anti-collision electrons, and his other published work, and falls a little bit in love with the man’s mind.

 

It just really sucks that he’s apparently an evil scientist experimenting on people.

 

And then Banner surprises Tony by showing up in his office after hours, with the apparent intention of destroying his own work. And himself.

 

 _That’s_ what Tony takes away from their conversation. Banner had destroyed his work, and is clearly planning on taking himself out of commission to ensure that Ross can’t ever pick his brain.

 

Now that Tony knows Banner isn’t evil, he’s not about to let the man kill himself. He’s never kidnapped anybody before, but there’s always a first time for everything.

 

Tony takes the precaution of tying Banner up once he drags him into the shitty motel room he’s rented for the week he thought it would take him to finish the job.

 

He’s careful about it, though. The last thing he wants to do is to cut off circulation, or do permanent damage. Since he’s about to offer Banner a partnership, he doesn’t want to get things started off on the wrong foot.

 

Okay, so kidnapping is not a great way to start things off, but Tony figures it’s the only option if he’s going to prevent Banner from killing himself.

 

Tony just wants to buy enough time to get Banner to listen to him, so he ties Banner’s hands behind his back and puts him on his side. He should probably secure Banner’s feet, too, but Tony doesn’t want him to feel threatened.

 

If he really wanted to immobilize him, Tony would have hogtied him, but instead he sits down on the other bed and considers his options.

 

He’d never considered taking on a partner, but he is now. Banner is smart, he can code, and he’s got every reason to disappear.

 

Tony is lonely, and the idea of having a partner in crime, even if only for a short time, is too appealing to pass up.

 

He can tell when Banner starts to wake up, because he immediately begins to thrash around.

 

“Hey, hey,” Tony says. “It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.”

 

Banner doesn’t reply, still struggling.

 

Tony has no idea what to do or say to reassure him. “Hey, relax,” Tony says. “I just want to talk to you. Tying you up was just a precaution to keep you in one place long enough to chat.”

 

One more violent thrash and Banner is free. Clearly, Tony needs more practice tying people up.

 

Banner immediately rolls off the bed and swings. His fist connects with Tony’s jaw with a force Tony doesn’t expect from an academic, and he’s thrown back on the bed as Banner heads for the door.

 

“Wait!” Tony calls. “Don’t you want to know what I have to offer?”

 

Banner reaches the door, and his hand is on the doorknob, but he stops cold. “Wait a minute. You’re dead.”

 

“Well, that’s the popular opinion, anyway,” Tony agrees, still rubbing his bruised jaw. “And look how well I’ve flown under the radar. If you let me help you, I’ll make sure you disappear, too.”

 

“That’s not going to be good enough,” Banner says, but he turns from the door to look at Tony. His expression is full of despair. “Ross will hunt me down.”

 

“Not if he doesn’t know who you are,” Tony argues. “I have a way to cover our tracks. You have to believe me.”

 

Banner takes a step away from the door, which is definitely progress. “Obviously, I have to believe you. I had no idea you were still alive.”

 

“Kind of the idea behind faking your death,” Tony replies. “Come on, you’re making me nervous. Sit.”

 

Banner takes a position closest to the door. “Okay.”

 

“You were going to kill yourself,” Tony says bluntly, deciding that it’s probably better not to beat around the bush.

 

Banner blinks. “I—eventually. When I got far enough away.”

 

“And while I admire your dedication to making sure no one can use you to hurt anybody else, don’t you think you could do more good if you were alive?” Tony argues.

 

Banner shrugs. “Not if I’m in Gitmo.”

 

Tony leans forward, his elbows on his knees. “Come on. Tell me you had any inkling I was alive.”

 

Banner’s expression turns wry. “None.”

 

“So?”

 

“So, you may have a point,” Banner admits. “But if Ross catches up to me—”

 

“He won’t,” Tony insists. “In fact, if we play our cards right, the rest of the world will think that we’re the same person.”

 

Banner raises an eyebrow skeptically. “That’s impossible.”

 

“I’m apparently a hacktivist now,” Tony counters. “I found out about the super soldier program, didn’t I? I would have managed to destroy the files even without you there. We can keep making things right.”

 

“You don’t even know me,” Banner objects. “You might hate me.”

 

Tony shrugs. “And you might hate _me_. Let’s give it a trial run. Say a month? If we hate each other after a month, I’ll make sure you’re somewhere safe.”

 

Banner shakes his head. “Why? Why would you go to the trouble?”

 

“Because you’re brilliant, and you were willing to throw it all away to make things right,” Tony replies. “Because there aren’t enough people like that in the world. Because you’re easy on the eyes, and being dead is really fucking boring. Because you’re the most interesting thing to happen in months.”

 

“I punched you,” Banner points out, although he sounds amused.

 

“Still interesting,” Tony argues. “Say you’ll give it a shot.”

 

Some complicated series of emotions crosses Banner’s face, and when he sees resignation, Tony knows he’s won. At least, he’s managed to postpone Banner’s suicide for thirty days, but that’s all he’s managed to do.

 

From Banner’s expression, he’s willing to put it off, but is still keeping the option open. “Okay,” he finally says. “We’ll give it a trial run.”

 

And Tony determines that he will show Banner a very good time.

 

~~~~~

 

Three days later, Bruce wakes up on a very comfortable couch after a night of hacking, and he feels an unfamiliar sense of—

 

Something. He’d call it contentment, even happiness, but he’s afraid of jinxing it, even in his own mind.

 

He now knows more about the Army’s top-secret projects than he did four days ago, and the means to shut down several of the more problematic ones.

 

Last night, Tony had said, “It’s up to you, Banner. You pick the next target.”

 

This morning, Bruce is beginning to think that maybe it would be better if he stuck to his original plan.

 

The thing is, he _likes_ Tony, in spite of being kidnapped by him. Actually, maybe because of it, since Tony had cared enough to prevent him from committing suicide, and now he’s spent the last few days showing Bruce how satisfying the life of a dead man could be.

 

Bruce can imagine diving into this life, and yet he doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve to live when so many people have died as a result of his research.

 

He tugs his t-shirt off, as it’s one of Tony’s, and pulls on his dirty shirt, quickly buttoning it up. Bruce looks around for his pants and doesn’t see them.

 

“You know, I was wondering how long it would take before you tried to make a run for it,” Tony says, holding up Bruce’s pants. “I took the chance that you wouldn’t leave in my clothes.”

 

“So, first you kidnap me, and then you hold my pants hostage,” Bruce says, only half-kidding.

 

Tony doesn’t move from his spot in the doorway to his bedroom. His apartment is spacious, but not particularly luxurious. The living area and kitchen have an open floor plan, but there’s a bedroom and a bathroom that offer privacy.

 

“Do you really want to die that badly?” Tony finally asks.

 

Bruce can feel himself flush, mostly with anger. “What do you know?”

 

“I know that my weapons have been used by terrorists to kill American troops,” Tony states baldly. “The very people I wanted to protect. I think you probably know a little bit about that.”

 

Bruce maintains a stubborn silence.

 

“Do you think I deserve to die?” Tony demands.

 

He’s startled enough to reply. “What? No!”

 

“So, death is the right answer for you and not for me,” Tony presses.

 

Bruce is beginning to feel a little panicky. “Don’t—”

 

“Don’t what?” Tony demands, closing in on him. “Don’t care? Don’t stop you from removing a brilliant mind from the world? Don’t show you a better way, a different way?”

 

It’s been years since Bruce had a panic attack, but he can feel it now—everything he’d buried when he found out what Ross was doing with his research, everything he’d ignored while figuring out how to keep Ross from doing something like that again.

 

Bruce’s heart pounds, and his chest feels tight, and he thinks he might be having a heart attack.

 

A warm hand lands in the center of his back, and Tony says, “Okay, easy, Banner. Breathe for me. It’s fine. I’ve got you.”

 

But he _can’t_ breathe, and he thinks this might be the better way to go out anyway—if his heart just gave up on him.

 

Tony’s warm, callused hands are on either side of his face now, and he’s murmuring steadily, “Breathe, Bruce. Just breathe for me.”

 

The panic attack passes, as they always do, leaving him wrung-out and sweat soaked, his hands trembling with the aftershocks and his eyes wet with the strain.

 

When Bruce can finally bring himself to meet Tony’s eyes, he says, “You don’t want me around. I’ll only drag you down.”

 

“Don’t be an idiot,” Tony orders harshly. “You won’t. You already helped.”

 

He slumps against the couch, pulling away from Tony. “I don’t—”

 

“You said a month,” Tony points out. “It’s been three days, and you’re throwing in the towel. Do you really hate me that much?”

 

“I don’t hate you at all,” Bruce replies. “That’s the problem.”

 

There’s a long, pregnant pause, and Tony says, “You know, that’s not what most people say after I kidnap them and hold them hostage for three days.”

 

“I wanted to stay,” Bruce admits. “I still do. I just—”

 

“Ross has a lot to answer for, but we’ll get him,” Tony promises. “And while I’m happy to avenge your death, I’d rather help you avenge yourself.”

 

Bruce runs a hand through his hair. “Fair warning, you may have to talk me off the ledge again.”

 

“You step out on the ledge a lot?” Tony asks.

 

Bruce shrugs. “More and more often lately. I think I’ve known for a long time that things weren’t right.”

 

“Then we’ll make it right,” Tony replies, and offers Bruce a hand up. “Come on. You’ll feel better after a shower and some clean clothes. I’ll throw something together for breakfast.”

 

Bruce snorts. “I didn’t think you cooked.”

 

“Even I can handle scrambled eggs and toast,” Tony says.

 

Tony’s right; Bruce does feel considerably better after a hot shower and clean clothes. Neither of them had wanted to risk going back to Bruce’s place, thinking it better if Bruce disappeared and left no sign of where he’s going.

 

Tony has thrown some grated cheese into the scrambled eggs and buttered the toast, and there’s a pot of coffee brewing.

 

“Feel better?” Tony asks.

 

Bruce nods. “Thanks.”

 

“I had a few bad moments myself,” Tony replies casually. “Especially after Afghanistan.”

 

“What happened?” Bruce asks. “I know what I heard on the news, but that was obviously inaccurate.”

 

Tony gives him a sharp look as he puts the plate down in front of Bruce. “I haven’t told anybody this story. Not even Pepper knows all of it.”

 

“Pepper Potts? Current CEO of Stark Industries?” Bruce asks, forking up cheesy eggs.

 

Tony nods. “That’s right.”

 

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Bruce says.

 

“You going to stick around for a month like we agreed?” Tony counters.

 

Bruce eats another bite of eggs. “These are good.”

 

“That’s about the extent of my skills,” Tony admits. “So?”

 

Bruce takes another bite and considers his options. “You swear we’ll take down Ross?”

 

“On my life,” Tony replies. “What remains of it, anyway.”

 

Bruce makes his decision. “Then, yes. Count me in.”

 

~~~~~

 

Tony has never told anyone the whole story, not even Pepper, who knows the most. Well, Obadiah probably knows the most about the attempts on Tony’s life, since he’d orchestrated them, but he doesn’t know Tony’s alive, and Tony wants to keep it that way.

 

But Bruce needs to feel less alone, and if Tony’s story does that, then Tony will give it to him.

 

He pours another cup of coffee and tops off Bruce’s. “The first attempt on my life was in Afghanistan, and I got lucky. The troop transport I was with was attacked with weapons from Stark Industries. I nearly got blown up, and a lot of soldiers died. The only reason I’m not dead is because of my friend Rhodey.”

 

“I read about it,” Bruce admits.

 

“Come to find out, Obadiah was the one to set that up,” Tony says. “But I only discovered that after the brake lines to my car were cut and I nearly went over the side of a cliff.”

 

Bruce frowns. “I hadn’t heard about that.”

 

“I kept it quiet,” Tony admits. “I figured out who was trying to kill me, and it was Obadiah. I didn’t have enough evidence for a conviction, and I couldn’t kick him out of my company. I knew Stark Industries couldn’t make weapons anymore, but I also knew it was only a matter of time before Obadiah succeeded and took over.”

 

“But you could have stopped him,” Bruce argues. “You didn’t have to fake your own death.”

 

Tony raises his eyebrows. “At the time, I didn’t see a way out,” he admits. “Obadiah was slippery, and the company needed a new direction. I thought this was the perfect solution. I thought I could do more good as a dead man.”

 

“Have you?” Bruce asks.

 

Tony shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe you’ll tell me.”

 

“What do you do for money?” And now Bruce is curious, thinking through the implications, and Tony wonders if that’s what it’s going to take. If he has to keep Bruce busy, careening from one job to the next, he will.

 

He _will_ , because he recognizes in Bruce’s eyes the same despair he’d seen in the mirror after the second murder attempt. Cornered, hopeless, angry, fearful. The difference between them, Tony thinks, is that Tony had refused to give up, to let Obadiah win. Bruce is far more willing to fall on his sword, and Tony has to wonder why that is.

 

Tony hadn’t dug into Bruce’s background much past his recent history with Ross. Maybe it’s time to do so, just so he knows what landmines await him.

 

“A fund, set up before my death, and as untraceable as I could make it,” Tony admits. “It’s a fraction of what Stark Industries pulls in, but it’s enough to keep a roof over my head and food on the table.”

 

Bruce snorts. “And the fancy equipment?”

 

“That’s mostly what I steal from rich assholes who deserve it,” Tony admits frankly. “Or emptying slush funds for black ops and wet works. They can’t kill people if there’s no money in it.”

 

Bruce’s look turns calculating. “Show me.”

 

And Tony understands what Bruce is asking. He doesn’t just want to be entertained; he wants to see inside the operation.

 

A few hours later, Bruce has a good idea of what Tony’s been working on, and the accounts he’s drained, and the projects that Tony’s disrupted.

 

In the end, Bruce says, “This one. They’re trying to build the perfect assassin, and I want to stop them.”

 

“Good choice,” Tony says. “But we’re going to need an inside man for the job.”

 

Bruce smiles thinly. “I’m sure we can come up with something.”

 

Over the next few days, Tony discovers that Bruce’s plans are meticulous. He plans for every contingency, every potential wrong turn, and then he plans for every wrong turn that follows each possible problem.

 

“I think your contingencies have contingencies,” Tony teases.

 

“Pardon me for wanting this to succeed,” Bruce returns sharply. “And for wanting to keep us both safe.”

 

“Not complaining,” Tony says immediately. “One of us has to be careful.”

 

“I would hope we’d both be careful,” Bruce snaps.

 

Tony raises his hands in surrender. “Yeah, of course. We’ll both be careful. Obviously.”

 

Bruce shoots him a deeply skeptical look. “You went in to shut down my program with no more than a half-baked plan. You know that as well as I do.”

 

“Okay, maybe,” Tony admits. “Bruce—”

 

“Let me do this,” Bruce insists. “I’m good at this.”

 

Tony nods. “Contingency plans on contingency plans, I get it.”

 

“It’s to keep us safe,” Bruce grumbles.

 

“And I appreciate it,” Tony replies. “Always.”

 

Bruce hitches a shoulder. “So let me get back to it.”

 

“If that’s what you want,” Tony replies.

 

The problem is that their next job requires hands-on involvement, because Ross is a canny son of a bitch and keeps the important things offline. Not even Tony can hack something remotely when it’s on its own fucking system, and this project is too important to risk.

 

Tony might have been on board with prosthetics that acted like real limbs; that’s something he would have put SI on developing if he’d thought past weapons. But this project involves chips and brainwashing, and the use of soldiers who can’t, or won’t, say no.

 

Not for the first time, Tony wonders how Ross sleeps at night. At one point, he’d been a good officer, a good leader, and invested in keeping his people safe. And now, he’s _this guy_ , who uses people to—

 

Tony still isn’t sure what Ross is up to, other than padding his own resume.

 

“One of us is going to have to go in,” Bruce points out.

 

“And Ross knows your face,” Tony points out.

 

Bruce sighs. “I know.”

 

“But I think we can both go in, with the appropriate precautions,” Tony continues.

 

“And what precautions would you suggest?” Bruce asks, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

 

Tony holds up the techno-mask he’s been working on. He’s pretty sure he’s worked out all the kinks at this point. “Try this on.”

 

Bruce does so, and Tony’s programmed the mask to look like a rather generic middle-aged man with dark blond hair, blue eyes, and rounded features. It’s strange being on this side of things, when he’s usually the one looking in the mirror and seeing a different face while testing the mask.

 

“Go look in the mirror,” Tony says with a smug grin.

 

Bruce comes back a few moments later, still wearing the mask and a broad grin. “This is amazing!”

 

“Sometimes I can think things through,” Tony points out, although he’d mostly developed the mask to protect his identity, not for a job.

 

Bruce sighs, removing the mask. “I know you can, Tony. I just don’t want anybody else to get hurt. I can’t have that on me.”

 

Tony is touched. “Okay, but you know if something happens to me, part of the responsibility will be mine, right? I’m a big boy. I’ve been putting myself in harm’s way for a while now.”

 

Bruce snorts. “Maybe I’d like to keep you around.”

 

“Ditto,” Tony says, flirting a bit.

 

Bruce flushes but otherwise ignores the attempt. Tony knows he’s probably playing with fire, because if things go badly, he’s out a partner in crime and someone who might end up being a friend.

 

Then again, nothing ventured, nothing gained, and Tony’s had a long dry spell. Tony’s just going to have to up his game until he knows for sure that Bruce isn’t interested, or until he succeeds.

 

~~~~~

 

Tony’s been flirting with him non-stop for the last week, and Bruce is swiftly losing any resistance he might have had.

 

He tells himself that it’s a terrible idea, that if he wants this partnership to last, it’s better not to bring sex into it. He tells himself that he’s a mess, and he shouldn’t subject anybody to his shit.

 

He’s a little relieved when Tony stops flirting quite so outrageously right before they run the con. They have to break into the research facility, which the masks will definitely help with, but they have to figure out who best to impersonate.

 

“You know, Myrna Saunders has the highest level of access,” Bruce points out.

 

“And neither of us are really in a position to wear a dress,” Tony replies.

 

Bruce smirks. “I think Dr. Saunders usually wears a pantsuit.”

 

“The mask doesn’t do much for the wrong height,” Tony says.

 

“Dr. Saunders is actually 5 foot 7,” Bruce replies. “She’s stocky, and she usually wears heels.”

 

Tony blinks. “Holy shit. Are you offering?”

 

Bruce flushes at the expression on Tony’s face. “You know as well as I do that she has the best clearance. Mark Demming is about your height, and he has pretty decent clearance.”

 

“Pretty decent is not Dr. Saunders’ level,” Tony protests. “You’d be running part of this on your own.”

 

“Don’t think I can handle it?” Bruce challenges.

 

Tony shakes his head. “No, I’m sure you can. I just don’t like the idea of you without backup.”

 

“So, we make a plan for that,” Bruce replies with a crooked grin.

 

Tony snorts. “Plans upon plans, got it.”

 

“There’s a reason for that,” Bruce replies.

 

“You seem weirdly okay with impersonating a woman,” Tony says.

 

Bruce smirks. “Maybe I’m just more secure in my masculinity than you are.”

 

That gets an eye roll. “Okay, fine, you’re right. Saunders is our best chance to get in. How are we going to get her ID and make sure she’s not around?”

 

“Well, I’m not a huge fan of kidnapping,” Bruce begins.

 

“Seems to be working fine for us,” Tony says.

 

Bruce gives him a dirty look. “It also gives her another chance to see our faces. I say we drug her and go in the early morning, when we’re sure she’s still asleep.”

 

“And how are we going to drug her?” Tony asks.

 

Bruce grins. “She’s single, and she likes to frequent a particular bar after work. If you can’t charm her, I’m going to be seriously disappointed in you.”

 

“Great,” Tony replies, rubbing his hands together. “You can be my wingman.”

 

Bruce grimaces, but he knows that it probably makes more sense if they go together. It will look like the two of them are trawling for dates together. “All right.”

 

Tony gives him a look. “Going to a bar and picking up women isn’t supposed to be painful, Banner. It’s supposed to be _fun_.”

 

“Tony, women don’t give me the time of day,” Bruce protests. “Betty was the only exception to that rule.”

 

Tony blinks. “Wait—that’s right. You were with Betty _Ross_ , General Ross’ daughter.”

 

“And now you know why I broke up with her before I sabotaged my project,” Bruce says. “I couldn’t take the risk that she’d want to protect her father.”

 

“She probably would have,” Tony replies. “And maybe she would have chosen you eventually, but maybe she wouldn’t. It’s okay that you didn’t want to make her choose between you. It means you’re probably a better man than I am.”

 

Bruce smirks. “I think that goes without saying.”

 

“There’s that strut,” Tony says approvingly. “And I think you might be surprised how many people out there would find you attractive.”

 

Bruce snorts. “Not interested in sex with a random stranger,” he replies. “Never have been.”

 

Tony blinks and seems to take that information in stride. “Duly noted. You ever been interested in men?”

 

Bruce knows why Tony is asking. “I’m interested in an emotional connection, Tony. Otherwise, I’m pretty much equal opportunity.”

 

“Got it,” Tony replies. “You okay with being a wingman?”

 

Bruce shrugs. “Less okay with drugging our marks, but yeah, it needs to happen, so I’ll deal.”

 

“What about Demming?” Tony asks.

 

“I figure we’ll give him the same treatment, find a way to knock him out,” Bruce replies. “Does he have relatives?”

 

Tony frowns and pulls up the file. “A mother and a couple of sisters.”

 

“Do we know if he’s close to any of them?”

 

Tony has his phone records, too. “Possibly. He calls his mom at least every other week and talks to his sisters once a month.”

 

“Send him a care package,” Bruce suggests. “With baked goods. No bachelor can pass up fresh baked cookies.”

 

“What if they never send him care packages?” Tony counters.

 

“Tell me that if you had a mother or sisters, you’d pass up cookies they sent on the spur of the moment,” Bruce says.

 

Tony thinks about that for a minute. “Yeah, probably not.”

 

“Okay, so it’s either that or filling his house with gas,” Bruce replies. “Something that will knock him out but won’t show up on a tox screen later, and can’t be traced to us.”

 

“Gas,” Tony says immediately. “It would be too easy for people to trace a package unless we went in to retrieve it.”

 

Bruce thinks about that for a moment, and has to admit that Tony’s right. After all, there’s no guarantee as to when Demming would eat the sweets. He might not be hungry when they arrive. “Okay, gas it is.”

 

He still feels weird about the whole thing. Drugging people, engaging in pseudo-kidnapping, impersonating others, breaking and entering—that’s not really something that Bruce would have thought himself capable of doing.

 

 “It’s what’s safest,” Tony insists. “Nobody gets hurt, other than having a hangover.”

 

Bruce shrugs. “Yeah, okay. If that’s what works.”

 

“I guess we’ll see,” Tony says.

 

He leaves it up to Bruce to concoct the drug, since that’s really more Bruce’s forte than Tony’s. The challenge is to create a drug that can be disseminated in both liquid and aerosol form, and that will knock their targets out for at least 24 hours but not have any lasting effects. Both have to be nearly undetectable by the person ingesting them.

 

After a couple of days, Bruce thinks he has what they need, and in a weird twist of events, they test both drugs on themselves, something that Bruce had considered doing with the serum before Steve Rogers volunteered.

 

In the end, when testing the liquid form, Bruce can’t taste it, and he sleeps nearly 20 hours dreamlessly and wakes only with a slight headache.

 

“We should market this,” Tony says when Bruce finally wakes up. “I’ll bet insomniacs would pay good money for this.”

 

Bruce rolls his eyes. “Human trials, Tony. We’re not anywhere close to testing this out on people who aren’t us.”

 

Tony shrugs. “I’m just saying that if we ever need the cash, we might be able to market this.”

 

Bruce doesn’t reply to that directly. “Your turn next.”

 

Tony takes a whiff of the gas and shrugs. “It doesn’t smell like anything in particular.”

 

“That’s kind of the point,” Bruce says, and then springs forward to catch Tony as his legs give out. “Looks like it’s working.”

 

He barely gets Tony on the couch, and then putters around, brushing up on his coding skills and planning extensively for their mission. He’s grown a beard for a disguise and has a haircut, and he’s pretty sure that even Betty would have to take a second look to recognize him.

 

Bruce looks in the mirror and knows he can play the part of a wingman next to Tony’s effortless good looks and charm. He stays awake the entire time Tony sleeps, drinking endless cups of coffee and working on a few other projects.

 

Tony is actually out for longer than Bruce was, although he has less in the way of a hangover. “Okay, that shit is awesome, and we need to patent it.”

 

“We’ll deal with that later,” Bruce insists. “You might be able to get it done through Stark Industries.”

 

“There’s an idea,” Tony agrees. “We’ll need to set up bulletproof secret identities to do that, though.”

 

Bruce raises an eyebrow. “ _One_ identity, remember? It’s much better if the world is looking for one person when there are two. It means that there’s always someone to get the other person out.”

 

Tony beams at him. “ _Now_ you’re getting it.”

 

~~~~~

 

The job nearly goes off without a hitch. Tony successfully woos Myrna Saunders and knocks her out, and they tuck her safely into her bed. She might not remember much when she wakes up, but hopefully waking up in her own bed, fully clothed, will ease her mind.

 

With any luck, Demming will just think that he slept right through his alarm. The available records suggest that he tends to burn the candle at both ends, so he might decide that his body’s need for sleep had caught up to him.

 

Bruce and Tony don their masks and disguises, and Tony tries not to ogle Bruce’s ass in his pantsuit.

 

It’s a completely different cut, is the thing. Bruce has mostly been wearing Tony’s clothes, and the few things they’d bought to tide him over, but that’s different. Up until Bruce dons the mask, it’s still Bruce in a lady’s pantsuit.

 

“You can stop staring at any time,” Bruce says.

 

“Those pants really make your ass look great,” Tony replies unrepentantly.

 

Bruce rolls his eyes and dons his mask, and suddenly Tony’s looking at Myrna Saunders, who could be termed handsome, but not pretty. “Well?”

 

“Pitch your voice a little higher,” Tony advises. If he’d had more of an opportunity, he might have been able to rig something that would simulate Saunders’ voice, but the tech isn’t quite there yet.

 

“Better?” Bruce asks, his voice pitched slightly higher in a passable imitation.

 

Tony nods. “If anybody comments, just say you have a cold. That should account for the slightly lower voice.” He pulls on his own mask. “How do I look?”

 

“Like Demming,” Bruce replies.

 

“Let’s do this thing,” Tony says.

 

They’ve “borrowed” Saunders’ car for the occasion, and Tony rides in the passenger seat. Demming is in Saunders’ department, so it’s not beyond the realm of possibility that she would give him a ride in if his car were disabled.

 

Which it is; they’d made sure of it.

 

The guard checks their faces to see if they have the right IDs and then waves them through. They have Saunders’ access card, so they don’t have any problem getting into the lab, and Bruce’s Trojan—slightly modified for this project—is easily deployed.

 

By this time tomorrow, the project will be dead in the water. Granted, the scientists involved all have discrete pieces of the puzzle, but none of them are as brilliant as Bruce, and Tony doesn’t think they’ll be able to resurrect the project.

 

They might try, but this Trojan will stick around, corrupting data, and just generally fucking shit up for a long time to come. The chances of anybody finding the Trojan are slim to none, it’s that well hidden.

 

Ross isn’t going to get his super soldiers; he’s not going to be able to brainwash soldiers in exchange for high-tech prosthetics.

 

“We should get into this market,” Bruce murmurs as he meets Tony outside Saunder’s lab where Tony had been keeping watch. “Would Stark Industries get behind that?”

 

“Yeah,” Tony says. “Yeah, it would. Providing high-tech prosthetics to wounded warriors would go a long way towards repairing SI’s image.”

 

“Then let’s do that.” Bruce wipes down the keyboard and desk, anything that would take his prints or Tony’s. “And let’s get out of here.”

 

They’re nearly out of the building when Bruce’s mask flickers. “Oh shit,” Tony says. “We’ve got a tech failure.”

 

“Hey!” calls one of the MPs stationed near the entrance. “What the hell!”

 

“Now would be the time to run,” Tony says in an undertone. “Fast.”

 

Bruce shakes his head. “No, it’s not. Women’s bathroom, now.”

 

“Dr. Saunders really isn’t feeling well,” Tony calls, and Bruce ducks into the nearest women’s rest room.

 

Tony really wants to know how the hell Bruce plans on getting out of this one.

 

When Bruce doesn’t emerge from the bathroom in the next fifteen minutes, Tony dithers momentarily before heading for the car. Somehow, he’s not surprised to find Bruce slouched in the passenger seat.

 

“What the hell was that?” Tony asks.

 

“People see what they want to see,” Bruce says easily. “I go into the women’s bathroom, people assume their eyes were playing tricks on them. They don’t even think about the fact that I never came out.”

 

“How did you get out?” Tony asks, sliding into the driver’s seat.

 

“Window,” Bruce says succinctly. “It can only be locked from the inside, so it made an ideal escape route.”

 

“You didn’t know that for sure,” Tony objects.

 

Bruce shrugs. “If that hadn’t worked out, I would have ditched the jacket, untucked the shirt, and rolled up the sleeves. I would have relied on you to make sure the coast was clear, and then we would have waltzed out of the building.”

 

“Waltzed, huh?” Tony asks, amused.

 

Bruce shrugs. “For some version of that word.” He slouches down in the seat. “Just get us out of here, huh?”

 

“Contingency plans on contingency plans,” Tony murmurs, pulling out.

 

Bruce smirks. “That’s the idea.”

 

Tony frowns. “You knew that the window would open from the inside.”

 

Bruce shrugs. “They did where I worked. The idea was that if there was ever a terrorist attack, or something like that, people might need a way to get out without being seen.”

 

“We make a great team,” Tony points out.

 

Bruce smirks. “No argument from me.”

 

Tony feels a spike of hope. “Yeah? You think you might want to give me more than 30 days?”

 

“I think we could do a lot of good in 30 days,” Bruce replies. “But I think we could do even more good given a longer period of time.”

 

Tony grins. “Absolutely.”

 

He wants to jump Bruce just as soon as they get back to the motel they’re staying at, but there are safety precautions to be followed. They’ve paid for another two days, and they put the “Do Not Disturb” sign on the door to obscure the day they leave. With any luck, housekeeping won’t show up until their check out date.

 

They load up the car with their equipment, and then head out. Tony’s current base of operations is in New York City, and Ross’ research center is in a place in rural Maryland, so it’s not a long drive.

 

Tony’s studio apartment is on the top floor of an older building in Queens, and there’s no elevator, so they carry the equipment up the stairs and dump it just inside the door.

 

“You want a beer?” Tony asks.

 

Bruce shrugs. “If you’re having one. I’m going to get out of these clothes.”

 

Tony grins when Bruce starts undressing right there, stripping off his dress shirt and pants, pulling on one of Tony’s t-shirts and a pair of jeans. “You know, if you keep wearing my clothes, people really are going to think we’re the same person.”

 

“I thought that was the point,” Bruce replies. “You want to order something in?”

 

“I’m not hungry for food right now,” Tony says.

 

Bruce takes a sip of his beer. “That has to be one of the shittiest come-ons I’ve heard.”

 

“You got something better?” Tony challenges.

 

Bruce smirks. “I’ve always thought that actions speak louder than words.”

 

“That an invitation?”

 

“Does it need to be engraved?”

 

Tony rolls his eyes and moves in. Bruce is tentative, cautious, his lips warm and a little chapped, his hands landing on Tony’s hips.

 

Tony pushes a hand through Bruce’s hair, his hand squeezing the back of Bruce’s neck, holding him in place. Not that Bruce seems to need the encouragement, because his mouth opens, and he deepens the kiss.

 

And it’s good. Tony hasn’t kissed anybody in so long, and Bruce is hot and smart, and they’d just pulled off a difficult job. They have years ahead of them.

 

Years to get to know each other, years to pull off jobs and maybe save the world.

 

When Tony pulls back, he rests his forehead against Bruce’s. “Okay?”

 

“Yeah, okay,” Bruce replies with a smile. “Really okay. You know how badly this could turn out, right?”

 

Tony just grins. “No risk, no reward, Dr. Banner. And I believe that we’ll be around for a long time to come, you and me.”

 

“You’re the genius,” Bruce replies. “I guess I’ll just have to take your word for it.”

 

And then Bruce kisses him again, and Tony can’t help but think that life is just going to get better from here on out.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] What Deepest Remains](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3494750) by [enigmaticblue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticblue/pseuds/enigmaticblue), [The_Lady_smaell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Lady_smaell/pseuds/The_Lady_smaell)




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